


you are not alone in this

by pocoloki



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Animal Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 04:43:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10404204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocoloki/pseuds/pocoloki
Summary: "Yuuri knows what Victor is going through right now, knows the heartache of losing a beloved pet... it isn’t a pain he would wish on his worst enemy. He would do anything, give everything he had and more if it meant he could spare his lover from feeling it for even a second."Victor loses his best friend. Yuuri is there to help him through it.(I'm a terrible human being. Sorry, Makka.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I watched Marley & Me and got an idea to do a terrible thing, which then somehow evolved into this monster. I'm so sorry.

The air is knocked out of Yuuri’s lungs as he hits the ice yet again. He admonishes himself inwardly as his body slides to a stop on the sheer surface; the failed jump - his fourth since the beginning of practice - had been a triple salchow, one he’d mastered long ago and really should be able to land in his sleep by now. 

“Yuuri,” Yakov calls from across the rink, “Focus!”

“Yes, coach!” Yuuri calls back, picking himself up off the ice. 

“ _Yes, coach_ ,” Yurio mocks in a pathetic, high-pitched voice as he skates by, sneering. 

Yuuri returns to his starting position, ignoring the younger skater. There hadn’t been any real venom in his jeering anyways - there never really was these days - and he gets the feeling the teenager had only come over here in the first place to make sure he was okay. Yurio really did have odd ways of showing his concern sometimes. 

 But now isn’t the time for ruminating on the strange, prickly ways of Yuri Plisetsky, Yuuri thinks, once again launching into his routine. Now is the time to pull himself together and try to actually focus. 

He can practically hear his husband’s voice in his head. 

  _Yuuuuuriiiiii,_ Victor would call in that frustratingly endearing half-whine of his, if he were here. _You need to concentrate! You always flub your jumps when something’s on your mind!_

And then he’d call him over to the sideboards and ask Yuuri what was bothering him. And then they’d have a heart to heart and do their best to work it out together and then move on, and everything would be fine. _If_ Victor were here. 

But, of course, he isn’t here, and that’s exactly the problem. 

It’s not his husband’s absence in and of itself that’s distracting Yuuri; after all, he’s become used to not having him around on certain occasions. Last season, when they had both been competing, Victor would sometimes need to leave Yuuri’s side briefly to focus on his own training and performances. It had been a difficult adjustment for them to be apart, Victor always seeming to come off a little worse for wear from their separations, but it was always manageable, and always more than worth the wait when they got to see each other again. 

But that isn’t the problem this time, Yuuri knows. After all, he’d seen Victor just this morning at home. No, it isn’t Victor’s absence that has Yuuri so preoccupied, causing him to flub jump after jump in this disaster of a practice session. It’s not Victor at all, not really. 

It’s Makkachin.

She’d been behaving oddly over the past few weeks, only managing short walks before tiring out and barely touching her food dish. The latter had been the most troubling, as she would usually happily consume any food (or edible-looking non-food item) that she happened across. Last week Victor had finally bit the bullet and taken her to the vet to get some diagnostic testing done. 

He’d never shown it outwardly, but Yuuri could tell his husband had been a nervous wreck all weekwaiting for the results to come in. The man was no fool, he knew that Makkachin was well past the average poodle lifespan by a long shot. As a result, he’d spent most of his time at home over the past week doting on her, offering her all her favourite treats in an effort to get her to eat (with varying degrees of success) and sitting on the couch or floor with her in his lap for hours on end, petting and cuddling her.  

Yuuri had spent the week trying his best to support them both, sick poodle andworried-sick owner, all without mentioning the giant pink elephant in the room of Makkachin’s age and the ever-haunting possibility that their remaining time with her may be extremely limited. The call had finally come last night from the vet’s office that the results were in, and they wanted to see Victor and Makkachin as early as possible the next day. 

After Victor hung up from talking to the vet, he had curled up on their bedroom floor with Makkachin, gently lifting her into his lap and giving her a tight hug. Yuuri had joined them there and they spent most of the night like that, the three of them huddled together, both Yuuri and Victor pretending this was nothing short of perfectly normal because acknowledging anything else would give the whole situation a finality that neither of them wanted to face until they absolutely had to. 

When Yuuri had seen him off this morning, Victor had looked openly worried for the first time, waiting for a cab with the poodle bundled in his arms as she was still too weak to walk on her own. Yuuri had done his best to reassure his husband without offering false promises of Makkachin’s health and offered yet again to skip practice and go with them to the vet. 

“No, no, _солнышко_ , we’ll be fine, I’m sure. There’s no need to miss practice for this.” 

“Are you sure?” Yuuri asked, letting his concern finally show openly on his face.

Victor, in typical Victor fashion, had simply tilted his head and smiled that smile, the media one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Positive!” 

Yuuri sighed, knowing when he was beaten. “Fine. You promise you’ll let me know when you hear the results?”

“I promise.”

“Okay,” Yuuri nodded, leaning over the dog in Victor’s arms to give him a quick kiss, “I’ll see you both after practice then. I love you.”

“Love you too.”  

A high-pitched ringing suddenly echoes across the skating rink, snapping Yuuri out of his reverie just in time to prevent another embarrassing fall. He lands the triple axel by the skin of his teeth and continues to work through his short program, watching out of the corner of his eye as Yakov reaches into his coat pocket to answer his phone. 

The man turns his back to the rink to take the call and Yuuri curses inwardly, losing track of Yakov entirely as he goes into a combination spin. As the walls of the rink whirl around him in a blur, he tries to pull himself together. There’s no use in worrying himself over Yakov getting a single phone call. After all, there’s no way of knowing if it’s even Victor calling. _Focus, Yuuri._ He would want you to focus, not worry about him when there’s nothing you can do about the situation anyway.  

He straightens up, still spinning, forcing himself to empty his mind of everything but the music of his short program. He moves out of the spin and into another step sequence. Focus on the music, on using your body to tell a story, don’t think about Victor or Makkachin, just the music-

“Yuuri!” Yakov calls, and his fragile bubble of focus pops, plunging him once more into that familiar sense of unease. “No, not you, the other one. Katsuki!”

As Yurio skates away, rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath, Yuuri makes his way to the sideboards where Yakov stands. “Yes, coach?” 

The man holds his phone out for Yuuri to take. 

“Vitya.” He says by way of explanation, nothing in his face or voice giving any indication of what kind of news he is calling with, much to Yuuri’s frustration. 

 Yuuri turns away from the rink, leaning against the sideboards and lifting the phone to his ear as Yakov moves away to speak to Georgi about something.

 “Hello? Victor?” 

 There is no actual response to the greeting, just a shaky sigh from the other end of the line. Yuuri’s knuckles tighten around Yakov’s phone, a horrible sense of dread settling over him.

“Are you there, love? Did… did you get the results?”

Another pause.

When Victor finally speaks, it sounds as though he is forcing the words out, heavy and hollow. “It’s… it’s bone cancer.”

The words hit Yuuri like a physical blow.

“ _Oh, Victor_ ,” he sighs, heart sinking.

“They, um. They said they could try to operate if we wanted, but the recovery time would be so long and painful and. At her age, it would only p-prolong her suffering. The only option is to, to-“

“Victor…”

 “Yuuri, I’m not ready for this.” His voice cracks, desperate, the pain in his voice like a knife in Yuuri’s heart. 

“I know, love, I know.”

“But I can’t. I can’t let her suffer. It’s just… it’s all so sudden…”

“They can’t… give her a few more days?” Yuuri knows before he even gets the words out that it’s a fool’s hope, that if there were anything Victor could do to prevent this from happening, to give her any more time, he’d have done it already.

“They said they could. They could give her some pain medication and she could come h-home with us. She could have a little more time. But I can’t do that to her. Even if they medicated her, she’d still be weak, she still wouldn't be herself. And then, after that, I… I’d have to bring her back here again. And they would still… I can’t do that to her, Yuuri. I can’t d-draw out her pain like that, I can’t-”

The pain in Victor’s voice is unbearable to listen to, and Yuuri cuts him off in desperation. 

“Okay, okay. It’s…” he is tempted for a half-second to tell Victor _it’s okay_ , but it’s not, and he isn’t going to lie to his husband at a time like this. “Do you want me to come?”

 Victor goes quiet for a moment, and Yuuri worries briefly that he is going to try to be noble, or a good coach or whatever, and tell him to stay. Not that it will matter if he does, Yuuri has made up his mind that he’s going whether Victor wants him or not. Even so, he feels a bit of relief amidst the sadness when he hears the soft, choked reply.

“Please…”

“Okay, love, I’ll be there. Can you send me the address?” 

“Yes.” Victor’s voice is strained, like he’s barely keeping it together.

“Alright. I’ll head over right away. I love you.”

A sniffle from the other side. “Love you too.”

Yuuri hangs up and passes the phone back to Yakov, who has thoughtfully brought over Yuuri’s own phone and skate guards. He slips them on and steps off the ice. 

 “Yakov, I’m so sorry but I need to-”

Yakov shakes his head, expression grave and understanding. “It’s fine. Go. He’s had that dog even longer than I’ve known him. He’ll need you there.”

 As he slips his guards on and hurries toward the locker room, Yuuri feels a wave of gratitude for his sometimes-coach. He still finds the man intimidating at times, but it’s obvious he understands Victor and, despite his consummate gruffness, loves him like a son. And with Makkachin’s time so heartbreakingly limited, Yuuri knows his husband will need all the support he can get from whatever family he has left. 

_______________________

 The cab ride to Victor’s vet’s office isn’t long, but Yuuri’s mind still manages to wander into dangerous territory several times during the trip. He stares absently out the window as the streets of St. Petersburg move by in a blur and, in a bid to keep himself calm, tries once again to focus on something, anything, that isn’t Victor or Makkachin. 

So, naturally, Yuuri’s ever-helpful mind flits to the other Victor. The tiny, yappy bundle of joy who had been his constant companion through his tumultuous teenage years. Who had gone on morning jogs with him when he became serious about getting in shape for competitions, who had hopped into his lap and licked his face to calm him down during anxiety attacks. Who had been his metaphorical shoulder to cry on during his first heartbreak, at the tender age of 16 when Yuuko told him she was pregnant with Takeshi’s child, and any latent dreams he’d had of someday winning her heart had been permanently and irrevocably crushed. Who had been with him through thick and thin, and supported him no matter what. 

He remembers the day he left for Detroit, how Vicchan had followed him around the house as he finished packing, almost as if he’d known Yuuri was going to leave. Just before they left for the airport, Yuuri had picked the tiny poodle up and hugged him tight. Vicchan licked the tears off Yuuri’s face as he promised the dog he would be home to see him soon, and that when he came back it would be with a gold medal, having finally skated against his idol as equals. 

In the end, he’d kept none of those promises. 

He remembers the 3 am call, mere weeks before the Grand Prix final two years ago, Mari sounding uncharacteristically tearful as she broke the news, ripping a hole in his heart and bringing all his built up focus and resolve crashing down around his ears. A guest had left the front gate open, and Vicchan had run out into the road and been hit by a car. The only consolation she’d been able to offer was that he had died instantly on impact, and hadn’t felt any pain. 

The thought of his beloved dog laying on the concrete like so much roadkill had turned Yuuri’s stomach, and he’d dropped the call without another word. Phichit had found him on his knees in their shared bathroom, emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet, in the midst of his worst panic attack in years. 

Phichit, bless him, had spent the rest of the night sitting up with Yuuri, guiding him through breathing exercises and patiently letting him soak his pyjamas in tears and snot. Yuuri doesn’t know what he would have done had his friend not been there for him. 

Still, all of Phichit’s help and support hadn’t made a difference in the long run where Yuuri’s career was concerned. He’d tried to throw himself into practice, to keep fighting for Vicchan’s sake, but his heart just hadn’t been in it. Even the thought of meeting his idol at the Sochi Final had been soured by the death of his namesake. 

The weeks after Vicchan’s death had been some of the worst in Yuuri’s life. The loss had been devastating, but even worse was the crushing guilt of not having been there for him in the years before his death. He was haunted for years, is still haunted to this day, by the thought of his faithful friend waiting and waiting for him to come home and then dying without him by his side. 

Even now, the fact turns his stomach with regret. He wouldn’t trade his time in Detroit for anything, the friends he’d made there, the things he’d experienced… but at the same time there will always be a part of him that hates himself for leaving, for never being able to say a proper goodbye to the pet who had meant so much to him. 

The scenery outside the cab window blurs, and Yuuri wipes at his eyes and hopes the driver hasn’t noticed. He can’t let himself fall apart over Vicchan now, not when he’s had so many years to mourn his own pet, not when Victor is about to suffer a loss even greater and more painful than his own had been. 

Victor doesn’t often speak of his life before he met Yuuri, a fact that worries him in and of itself, but he knows a few things about his lover’s childhood. He knows that Makkachin had been a gift from Victor’s parents for his twelfth birthday. He knows that Victor had lost his parents a week after that same birthday, to a drunk driver who had hit them head-on on the way home from a New Years party. He knows that Makkachin had been the one constant in the tumultuous weeks that had followed his parents’ burial, as their executors had scrambled to find a family member to take him in. 

A great aunt had eventually taken him, given him food and shelter and not much else, but she’d let him continue with his skating and she’d let him keep Makkachin, provided he took all the responsibility of taking care of her. Yuuri doesn’t know much more than that, because Victor doesn’t talk about it. He says there’s nothing _to_ talk about, and Yuuri doesn’t know if it’s more worrisome if he’s lying about that or telling the truth. 

He’s never straight up asked Yakov or any of Victor’s rink mates what his life was like before they met. It’s another subject Victor clearly doesn’t want to discuss, and it would feel wrong to go behind his back to find out. From what he gathers, though, Victor hadn’t _had_ much of a life. He was either at the rink, or at home with Makkachin. Aside from a few short-lived attempts at romance, that had been it for over a decade, all he’d had to fill his big, empty life. Skating, and Makkachin. 

It’s hard for Yuuri to think about when he’s been so fortunate to be surrounded his whole life by loving family and friends who cared for him. It’s impossible for him to imagine living in that kind of isolation for so many years with only one real companion, only one living creature to share everything with. And to lose her now… even though Yuuri knows Victor’s days of isolation are over, he still can’t even comprehend the magnitude of the loss his husband is about to suffer. 

The cab rolls to a stop and Yuuri notices with a start that he has reached his destination. He pays the driver and steps out onto the sidewalk, blinking tears from his eyes and mentally berating himself for allowing his mind to drift so far into such upsetting territory. He can’t dwell on these things now, not whenhe needs to be strong for his husband. He sniffs, squares his shoulders, and enters the building. 

Victor’s vet is a woman who looks to be in her late 40’s with dark hair and glasses. Thankfully, she speaks fluent English. She introduces herself as Irina Nikolaeva, and tells him she’s been treating Makkachin since she was a pup and knows Victor well. 

She says she’s pleased to finally meet the Yuuri who Victor talks so much about. This isn’t the first time Yuuri has heard this, and if not for the worry still coiled in his gut, he would roll his eyes at his husband’s undying habit of gushing about him to seemingly everyone he meets. 

Dr. Nikolaeva’s expression grows grave as she expresses her condolences about Makkachin’s condition. She assures Yuuri that the dog is in good hands, and that she and her staff will do all they can to make this as easy as possible on all three of them. 

“Victor is in the room with Makkachin now,” she tells him, moving out of the waiting room into a long corridor. “Please, take all the time you need to say your goodbyes. When you’re ready, you can let me know, I’ll be just out here.” 

Yuuri nods mutely and follows her to a door near the end of the hallway. He thanks her quietly in Russian, and she smiles and heads back towards the front of the building. 

Yuuri takes a moment to steel himself for whatever he finds inside, and pushes the door open. 

_______________________

The walls of Dr. Nikolaeva’s exam room are a warm light blue, adorned with various posters of animal anatomy and physiology, as well as a few cartoons of vets with dogs and cats, captions written in cyrillic that Yuuri can’t read. There are cupboards stocked with various metal apparatuses and bottles, and in the centre of the room stands a large stainless steel exam table.

There is a blanket spread out on the surface of the table, and on top of it lies Makkachin, stretched out lying on her side. Yuuri’s heart breaks looking at the poodle. She somehow looks even worse than she had last night, when she’d been so weak that Victor had needed to carry her into their room to keep an eye on her for the night. There is a cuff around one of her paws, holding in the beginning of an IV line. 

Victor is kneeling next to the table, holding the poodle’s other paw and gently petting her head, whispering softly to her in Russian. Tears slide slowly down his cheeks and his expression is one of such agony that it makes Yuuri’s heart ache just to look at him. 

He knows what Victor is going through right now, knows the heartache of losing a beloved pet. To open your heart to a creature, to love it as if it is your own family, and then be forced to watch helplessly as it slips away…it isn’t a pain he would wish on his worst enemy. 

He would do anything, give everything he had and more if it meant he could spare his lover from feeling it for even a second. 

But he can’t. All he can do is be here for Victor and Makkachin now, and try to get his husband through this. He clears his throat gently to make his presence known as he shuts the door behind him. 

Victor’s head snaps up towards the door, seemingly startled by the noise. The second he sees Yuuri standing there his face crumples and he stands, arms reaching out desperately. Yuuri is across the room in the blink of an eye, pulling his husband into a tight embrace, heart heavy as he feels the other man shudder against him. 

“ _Yuuri_.”

“Oh, Victor…”

He holds Victor like that for a long time, so long he can actually feel a damp patch where Victor has his face pressed into his shoulder. Yuuri says nothing, can’t think of any words to accurately express how sorry he is, how much he would give for his love not to have to go through this. He tries to make up for his lack of words in other ways, pulling Victor in as close as he can and rocking him slightly back and forth, anything he can do to make him feel slightly less awful. 

For what it’s worth, it seems to be working. Victor’s ragged breathing calms slowly, and after a while he slowly straightens, moving his face up from Yuuri’s shoulder and leaning in so that their foreheads touch, taking Yuuri’s hands.

Brown eyes meet red-rimmed blue. 

“Thank you. For, for coming.” When Victor speaks, his voice is rough and trembling. He closes his eyes briefly and clears his throat, trying to steady himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to pull you away from practice-”

“Shhh. Practice isn’t important right now. I want to be here for you, Victor.” He hesitates for a moment, glancing at the poodle laying on the exam table over his husband’s shoulder. “For both of you.” 

At the mention of Makkachin, Victor gently releases his hold on Yuuri and quietly steps back, giving him space to have a moment with the dog. Yuuri’s heart twists in sadness and affection for his husband at the gesture. 

He knows that Victor is hurting, that he craves Yuuri’s comfort, that much is obvious enough from the way he had clutched him so desperately when he arrived. Even so, here he is stepping back to give Yuuri a chance to say goodbye, a chance Victor knows Yuuri hadn’t had with his own dog. 

Yuuri blinks back tears, overwhelmed by the gesture. Even now, when his heart is breaking, Victor is still thinking of him and his needs above his own. 

He gives Victor’s arm an affectionate squeeze and a gentle smile as thanks, before turning back to Makkachin, trying not to think about the fact that will be his last goodbye, doing his best to swallow down his crushing sadness and put on a semi-cheerful face for the dog’s sake.

“How’s my good girl?” Yuuri croons, approaching the table and peppering the poodle’s face with kisses. “How’s my brave puppy?”

Giving her a few pats along her back, he crouches down to her level. After a few seconds, her bleary brown eyes seem to focus on him. 

“You must be tired, huh, girl. I know, you’ve been going for a long time, haven't you. It’s okay, though, you can sleep soon” His voice breaks, and he pauses to sniffle and blink away some tears before forcing a smile back on his face. “And then after that, you’ll be able to run as far as you can, and chase seagulls again, and you can eat as many steamed buns as you want. And hey, maybe you’ll even meet Vicchan up there and play with him. Will you tell him I said hi? Can you do that for me, girl?”

Although the poodle seems drowsy and weak from whatever medication Dr. Nikolaeva has administered to ease her pain, her tail gives a tiny twitch at his words, thumping softly against the table. 

Behind Yuuri, Victor lets out a watery laugh. “That’s the most enthusiastic she’s been all day.”

He approaches the table and stands next to Yuuri, wrapping an arm gently around his husband’s waist, pulling him close as he continues to rub Makkachin’s head. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. She’s always had a soft spot for you, you know.” 

“Has she?” 

“Of course,” Victor replies in a voice that he is clearly trying very hard, and failing, to keep steady. “She’s an excellent judge of character. She hated my first boyfriend. Would barely tolerate letting him pet her. Also kept peeing in his shoes despite being completely housebroken.”

Yuuri chuckles softly at that, Victor seems to relax against him a little at the sound. He reaches out and scratches around the poodles ears, a small, nostalgic smile flitting briefly across his face. 

“I really should have started listening to her opinions of my partners sooner,it would have saved me a lot of heartbreak. She tolerated some, but never really liked any of them. Until you, of course. 

“Oh?”

“Oh, yes. You, she took to instantly. I was already basically head-over-heels for you when we arrived in Hasetsu, but seeing Makkachin take to you so quickly… that’s when I knew without a doubt you were the one.”

Yuuri remembers the first time he had seen Makkachin in person, the overly affectionate greeting the poodle had given him, jumping on him immediately and licking his face within an inch of its life. Despite the difference in size and the colour of their coats, Makkachin had reminded Yuuri so much of his Vicchan that the sight of her felt like a punch to the stomach, albeit a short-lived one as his father’s offhand mention that _Victor fucking Nikiforov_ was in the onsen had abruptly banished all other thoughts from his mind. 

Beside him, Victor is still rambling on in what Yuuri is sure is an attempt to keep himself from breaking down entirely. 

“I was actually pretty jealous of her for the first few months. You let her sleep with you way before you started letting me.”

Yuuri laughs again, softly. He lifts his hand to give the poodle another pat, and the overhead lighting catches his wedding ring for just a second. The affectionate laughter dies in his throat to be replaced by an overwhelming wave of emotion as he remembers Makkachin at their wedding in her role as official ring bearer and Victor’s unofficial “best dog”. 

Even those few months ago, before her recent turn for the worse, she’d been old and slower, and it had taken her a while to get up the aisle and sit at Victor’s side, their rings tied with ribbon to her collar. But even her achy joints hadn’t stopped her from wagging her tail contentedly through the ceremony, happy even in her old age to be by her master’s side on such an important day.

Tears prick the corner of Yuuri’s eyes as he remembers it, and he squeezes Victor a little closer to him. 

“I’m - I’m so glad she got to see our wedding.” He realizes immediately after the words slip out that that’s probably the entirely wrong thing to say when his husband is clearly trying his hardest to keep himself together. 

Sure enough, a long pause follows his words and when Victor seems to find his voice again, it’s dangerously wobbly and uneven. 

“Me too. She..she was all I had for so long, and. I know it’s silly to say, but part of me thinks she might have been… holding on, just to make sure I w-wouldn’t be alone.” Victor’s voice finally breaks on the last word and his lips press tight together, his eyes bright. 

“She was right, in that case.”

“Yuuri…”

A sudden resolve seizes Yuuri, and he kneels down to the level of the table, leaning in close to speak gently but determinedly to the poodle. _She needs to know_ , he thinks, _she needs to know before she goes that he’ll be okay. That I won’t let him be anything else._

“You’ve been such a good dog, Makkachin,” he whispers, his voice wavering with suppressed emotion. “You’ve taken such good care of Victor all these years, but it’s. It’s okay. It’s okay for you to go. I’ll look after him, I promise. I’ll protect him, and I’ll make sure he’s never lonely again. So it’s alright if you need to sleep now, Makkachin. He’ll be okay. You can rest. I’m… I am gonna miss you so much, you know that?We both will. But I promise you, we’ll be alright. You don't have to worry about us. Okay, girl?”

Another exhausted thump of the tail, as if in understanding. Yuuri wipes a few stray tears away and rises again. Maybe it was silly, what he just did, reassuring a dog of her master’s wellbeing, but he finds it strangely comforting, the idea that he can make her passing any easier, even if it’s just in his own head. 

He turns his attention back to his husband and notes that, for all his trying to keep it together, the tears have started up again. Yuuri puts an arm around Victor, rubbing his husband’s back as he silently cries while keeping his other hand on Makkachin, gently stroking her fur.

They stay there like that a while, the three of them together, just like it’s always been for the past two years. But Yuuri knows they can’t stay like this forever. Eventually one of them is going to have to walk out that door and bring Dr. Nikolaeva back and then… 

_Just a few more minutes,_ Yuuri thinks, while simultaneously berating himself for drawing out the inevitable. _I’ll just give Victor a few more minutes to collect himself before I bring it up._  

But eventually those minutes are gone, and Victor’s tears are slowing, and Yuuri knows he can’t stall any longer. He forces himself to speak past the lump in his throat. 

“Victor… are you ready?”

Victor squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head as a few more stray tears roll down his cheeks. “I’m never going to be ready. But it’s…” his voice falters, overcome with emotion. “It’s time, I know.”

Yuuri’s heart twists in sympathy. Victor is strong, one of the strongest people Yuuri knows, but even he can't bring himself to do this alone, to summon the vet to come and take his best friend away, even if it means ending her pain.

“Do you want me to go get her?” he offers as gently as he can. 

Victor's eyes close again and he nods quickly, more tears falling before he scrubs them away with his hand. 

“Okay.” Yuuri cups his husband’s face gently in both hands, waiting for Victor’s eyes to open before giving him a gentle kiss. “I love you, Victor.” 

He turns back to the exam table and gives the dog a gentle pat. 

“And you too, Makkachin,” he murmurs, trying hard to keep his voice steady and reassuring for both her and Victor’s benefits, giving her a quick kiss on the top of the head “You’re such a good girl, I’m gonna miss you so much-”

Yuuri’s voice breaks off as he realizes that he’s stalling again. It takes a Herculean effort to push himself away from Makkachin and Victor, to propel himself out the door and into the hallway. But somehow he manages and a moment later he is outside the exam room and face-to-face with Dr. Nikolaeva, wiping hastily at his eyes. 

She notices his tears immediately and reaches behind her to pull a box of tissue from a nearby cupboard, handing it to him with a sympathetic expression.

“You’re ready now?” she asks gently.

Yuuri finds that his throat seems to have closed up entirely, but manages a stunted nod in response. 

The vet nods briskly and gathers some supplies she seems to have had waiting, including a syringe full of liquid that Yuuri knows will put Makkachin out of her misery. The sight makes him a bit nauseous. 

He had known from the moment he got off the phone with Victor, of course, what he was here for. He knows what is about to happen, on an intellectual level. But seeing the syringe, here, in person, brings a reality to the whole situation that feels like a punch to the stomach, and Yuuri has to make an effort to stop himself from flinching. 

Dr. Nikolaeva seems to notice the pained expression and lays a reassuring hand on his arm, then moves to turn back towards the exam room before hesitating.

“Before we go back in,” she begins in that soft, professional voice. “I already spoke about this with Victor, but I suppose I should tell you too.”

“Occasionally, after death occurs, there may be some residual muscle twitching or air leaving the lungs. This can be… disturbing to see for some people, but I assure you it is completely normal and does not mean that anything has gone wrong with the procedure.” 

Yuuri mutely nods his understanding, and the vet continues. 

“After Makkachin passes, I will give the two of you some more time with her. Feel free to take all the time you need to say your goodbyes. Afterwards, you have a few options in terms of disposal of the body. We do have a service we use for cremations here, so if you decide that is what you want you can let me know on your way out and we will take care of everything. If you would prefer to bury her instead, I have cards for some local pet cemeteries that you can contact.”

“I’ll, um- ” his voice is raspy with emotion, but he manages to speak. “I’ll have to ask Victor. We haven’t discussed it before.”

“Perfectly understandable,” she replies gently. “Many people don’t like to think about this until it’s absolutely necessary. You can take your time to talk it over and let me know when you’re ready. Before we go in, do you have any questions for me?”

Yuuri shakes his head, heart starting to beat a little faster because he knows it’s time, but Dr. Nikolaeva still looks like she has one more thing to say. 

“Mr. Katsuki?”

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say… I’m glad you’re here. I’ve known Victor and Makkachin for most of my career, so I know this is going to be an extremely difficult time for him. I hope you don’t mind me saying, but… I’m glad he won’t have to go through it alone.”

A familiar surge of emotion swells in Yuuri’s chest, just as it had when Yakov had said practically the same thing to him earlier. 

“Thank you,” he manages to choke out in response. 

“Now, if you’re ready,” she says, squaring her shoulders with a slightly sad expression and pushing the exam room door open. “After you.”

_______________

 Victor is kneeling next to the table again when they enter, stroking and whispering to his dog just like he had been when Yuuri first arrived. He tenses up at the sound of the door opening, and Yuuri thinks he might be trembling. Sympathy welling in his chest, he quickly moves to kneel next to his lover, reaching out with one arm and pulling him close, resting the other on Makkachin’s flank. With his hand on the poodle’s side like this he can feel how laboured her breathing is. 

_She must be in a lot of pain, even with the drugs_ , he thinks. 

Though it kills him to have to watch the dog go, it is a bit of a comfort to know that at least she won’t have to suffer much longer. 

Dr. Nikolaeva makes her way around the table, stopping on the opposite side from Victor and Yuuri and pausing to place her supplies on a counter behind her before turning back to the dog. She keeps the syringe in hand as she turns, and Yuuri can feel Victor shudder when he sees it. He moves his hand from Victor’s waist to rub his back soothingly. 

Dr. Nikolaeva prepares to connect the syringe to the IV line before pausing to look into Victor’s tear-filled eyes. 

“She won’t feel any pain,” she assures him gently. “It will only take a few moments, and it will be just like she’s falling asleep.” 

Tears begin to slip down Victor’s face in earnest, but he manages a jerky nod, holding on again to Makkachin’s free paw as the vet begins the injection. His hands shake as he continues to pet the poodle, his voice faltering as he whispers parting words to his oldest, dearest friend. 

Yuuri’s stomach is in knots as the syringe empties out into the IV. He can feel the poodle’s breaths start to slow almost immediately, becoming more relaxed. It’s only a matter of moments now. 

His Russian still isn’t very strong but he manages to pick up a few of the phrases that Victor is murmuring to the dog.

He is telling Makkachin that he loves her, thanking her for all their years together. His voice breaks as he tells Makkachin softly that it’s okay to let go, it’s okay, she can sleep now. 

Always the obedient companion to her master, Makkachin’s eyes slowly begin to drift closed. 

With his hand still resting on the poodle’s flank, Yuuri can feel her breathing continue to slow, can feel her side rise, and fall, rise, and fall, rise, and fall, and

Nothing. 

She’s gone. 

At her head, Victor is still whispering, telling Makkachin again that he loves her. Yuuri can feel his heart breaking. He doesn’t know yet. He doesn’t, but Dr. Nikolaeva seems to. 

She slowly puts her stethoscope in her ears, leaning over Makkachin’s body and pressing the other end to the dog’s chest. The movement startles Victor, and his head snaps up, looking at the veterinarian with agonized, tearful eyes as she removes the stethoscope from the poodle’s chest and her own ears after a moment, resting it again around her neck with a grave expression. She levels a sad, compassionate glance at Victor and nods in solemn confirmation before turning to write something on Makkachin’s chart.

_Time of death_ , Yuuri thinks, and feels numb.

Beside him, Victor removes his hand from Makkachin’s fur, folding his arms at the edge of the cold steel table and resting his head between them, face hidden from view as his shoulders begin to shake in short, jerky tremors. Yuuri immediately scoots in closer to him and rubs his back soothingly as Dr. Nikolaeva quietly gathers her things.

She gently reminds them before leaving that they can take all the time they need, that she’ll be right outside if they need anything, and then she is gone, just the two of them and Makkachin left in the quiet, still room. 

The door clicks shut behind the veterinarian, and silence hangs in the air behind her. Yuuri feels dazed, heart heavy as he looks from the still form of Makkachin on the table to his husband, still leaning against the table and hiding his face.  

A soft, muffled sob shatters the silence like glass. 

Yuuri can count the number of times he’s seen Victor actually cry on one hand, and most of those occasions had been happy tears, during their wedding or when Yuuri had won his first gold at Four Continents. He’s only ever seen him truly cry once, that night in Barcelona, and even then his tears had been quiet, reserved. He has certainly never _heard_ him cry like this. 

The shock of it freezes him for a split second, before he hears another soft sob from Victor and a wave of sympathy spurs him into motion.He will not let this be a repeat of Barcelona, when he’d gawked uselessly like some sort of tourist to his lover’s pain. He leans in close and lightly touches one of the arms hiding his husband’s face from view. 

“Victor…”

More quiet sobs are his only answer for a few moments. When Victor finally raises his head from the protective barrier of his arms, his eyes are fixed on Makkachin’s still form. He reaches out a shaky hand to pet her again, but as soon as it makes contact he withdraws quickly, another sob wracking his body.

“S-she’s cold,” he whispers, finally turning bloodshot blue eyes on his husband. “Yuuri, she’s cold. I-”

He doesn’t even finish the sentence before bursting into tears once more, louder this time. Yuuri doesn't waste any time gathering Victor’s trembling form into his arms. Victor doesn’t resist the gesture, burying his face in Yuuri’s shoulder and weeping unreservedly. 

“Oh, Victor,” Yuuri sighs, tears pricking at his own eyes as his husband falls apart in his arms. “I’m so sorry, love. I’m so, so sorry.” 

“I- I thought I was ready. I - I’ve known for so long that it was coming, I thought I was p-prepared…” 

“I know, love, I know,” Yuuri murmurs into his hair. “It’s not something you’re ever prepared for.”

“What am I gonna do without her? S-she’s been with me so long, I’ve had her even longer than I had my pare-”

Victor’s voice breaks on the word, which seems to trigger a fresh wave of tears. Yuuri’s heart feels like it’s in a vice, his helplessness in the face of his husband’s overwhelming grief almost physically painful. 

It’s not just the loss of a pet Victor is mourning now. It’s the loss of the last living reminder of his parents, of his entire _childhood_. Makkachin had never just been a dog to him, she’d represented a part of his life that he hadn’t been able to share with anyone else. A part of his life that was now gone, his last tether to it now cut.Yuuri can’t imagine what he must be going through right now, can’t even begin to try to comprehend what that loss must feel like. 

So he does what he can. He holds Victor so tight it’s as if his arms are the only thing preventing his husband from coming apart entirely.He buries his face in that silver hair, kissing the top of his head and murmuring any comforting phrase that comes to mind. He lets Victor squeeze him in a grip that’s almost painful, lets him pour his breaking heart out into Yuuri’s chest as he rides out the relentless waves of grief. 

It takes several minutes, but eventually the storm is mostly past and Victor goes nearly limp in Yuuri’s arms, sniffling occasionally but otherwise, for the moment, calm.

“Victor,” Yuuri mumbles, dread welling up inside him at having to bring this up when his husband has only just got his breath back. “I’m so sorry, I know you don’t want to think about this right now, but… Dr. Nikolaeva asked me when we were in the hall about, um… arrangements for the-”

He can’t get the words out. Can’t call what used to be such a sweet, energetic dog something as dull and lifeless as “the body.” Victor understands, though, and lifts his head from Yuuri’s shoulder to look with tearful eyes towards the table. 

“I- I’ve never even thought about-” he stammers out in a choked voice. Yuuri hugs him a little tighter, just for a moment, and he takes a deep breath to compose his thoughts before trying again. “I… I don’t want to bury her. It just seems so final, and I can’t - I can’t take the idea of her in the ground, just r-rotting away-”

His voice breaks again as he is overwhelmed by a fresh wave of tears. Yuuri lets him hide his face in his chest for the few minutes it takes to gather himself. 

“I’m s-sorry” he chokes out again, voice muffled in Yuuri’s shirt.

“It’s okay, Victor, it’s alright. You’re allowed to be upset about this, you have nothing to be sorry for.” 

He decides after a little while longer of holding his husband as he trembles against him that he won’t make Victor say the words himself. “No burial, then, so… you’d rather have her cremated?”

He worries for a second that this will set Victor off again, and is relieved to feel his lover nod against his chest. 

“Okay,” he says gently, trying not to let his relief show in his voice. “Okay, I’ll tell Dr. Nikolaeva on our way out.”

Victor sniffles. “T-thank you.” 

“And Victor,” Yuuri begins after a lengthy pause, “I’m sorry. I don’t want to rush you, but-”

“I know,” Victor sighs. “I know we can’t stay forever. I know the longer we stay the worse it will be when we have to l-leave. I just… Can I have a f-few more minutes here with her? Just a few.” 

Yuuri lays a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Of course, Vitya. You can take all the time you need. Will you be alright in here for a few minutes? I need to speak to Dr. Nikolaeva about the… arrangements.”

Victor nods silently and Yuuri gives his shoulder a supportive squeeze before slipping out into the hallway once more to inform the veterinarian of their decision and to call for a cab. When he returns to the exam room, Victor is stooped over the exam table with his face buried in Makkachin’s fur. 

“I-I can’t go, Yuuri. I can’t leave her…” He doesn’t look up, doesn’t move at all, and his voice is uneven and tearful. 

“I’m so sorry, Vitenka.” Even the diminutive, which usually delights Victor, does nothing to ease his emotional state. “You know we have to.”

“I know, I kn-know. I just…” his voice breaks off and he finally looks at Yuuri with helpless, wet eyes. 

Yuuri understands. As much as he’s trying to keep it together, to be strong for Victor, he feels the same way. The finality of it all is killing him. The fact that this is it, this is goodbye for real. The fact that they are going to turn around and walk out of this office and never see Makkachin again. The fact that the two of them are going to go home to that big, empty apartment and it’s going to feel so much bigger and so much emptier without her. It’s all he can do not to burst into tears himself at the thought. 

A wild thought crosses his mind, that as much as it had hurt him to be so far away when Vicchan had died, at least he hadn’t had to go through this part. As painful as it had been not to have a choice in the matter, he’d at least been spared having to walk away from his dear friend. He doesn’t think he would have been able to do it. He knows it would have killed him to turn his back like Victor has to now. 

From the looks of it, it’s killing Victor, too. The expression on his face is heart-wrenching. He gives her one last hug, half-lifting her body off the table to take her fully in his arms, and buries his face in her fur for a long moment. Then he places her gently back on the table, giving her a last kiss on the top of her head. 

“ _Проща́й_ , Makkachin,” he whispers, his voice breaking into a half-sob. 

Tears are running freely down his face and he bites his lip hard, seemingly in an effort to keep himself from sobbing. Yuuri thinks he might not be able to turn away from her on his own, so he gently takes his husband’s hand and pulls him carefully away from the table and out of the exam room, glancing back one last time at the still, mocha-coloured body lying on the table before tears blur his vision. 

The door clicks shut behind them and Yuuri thinks his hand might break in Victor’s vicelike grip. When he looks up at him, he is surprised to see that Victor isn’t crying. He seems to be making an effort not to, his lips pressed tight together but still slightly trembling, eyes blinking rapidly in an effort to stop the tears before they start. Every inch of him is wound up tight, like he’ll shatter into a million pieces if he lets his guard down for even a second. 

The sight of his husband in such pain, trying so hard to keep himself together, makes the ache in Yuuri’s chest even worse. He squeezes Victor’s hand and opens his mouth to tell him it’s not healthy to swallow his grief like that, that it’s okay to let it out. But the look in those blue eyes makes his words die in his throat. Victor is clearly uncomfortable expressing emotion like this, it’s enough of a display of his trust in Yuuri that he will even allow _him_ to witness his moments of weakness. Yuuri hates that Victor feels the need to put up this front, but he knows that this is neither the time nor the place for him to try and convince him otherwise. So he merely takes a breath to steel himself, and steers his husband back down the hallway.

When they make it into the waiting room, Yuuri can see the cab already waiting for them outside. He shepherds Victor out of the clinic and into the back seat, then scoots in beside him, giving their address to the driver before settling in as close as he possibly can to his husband. He reaches an arm around him and pulls him gently in towards himself until Victor’s head is resting on his shoulder. 

They spend the rest of the ride like that in silence, Victor leaning against Yuuri, Yuuri doing his best to provide wordless comfort. Victor is still sitting unnaturally still, as if any movement will cause him to break. His face is stone, his red-rimmed eyes stuck in an empty, thousand-yard stare that hurts Yuuri to see. 

He maintains that facade as Yuuri pays the driver, as they silently ascend to Victor’s floor in the elevator, as Yuuri unlocks the apartment door. Victor steps across the threshold and stares around the empty apartment with even emptier eyes, for just a moment. And then he shatters. 

Victor’s body seems to crumple in on itself, suddenly wracked with violent, agonized sobs. Yuuri hastily locks the door and scrambles to his side, taking him in his arms once more and supporting most of his weight as Victor all but collapses against him. He does his best to hold his husband up and together as he cries out his heartbreak in awful tears and shudders.

Yuuri knows this feeling well. The feeling of being greeted at the door for years by the excited skittering of nails on hardwood, happy barking and a wagging tail, and then one day coming home to silence. He’s never felt it so acutely himself; he hadn’t seen Vicchan in years at the time of his death - _no, don’t think about it now, not when the living breathing_ human _Victor needs you to be strong_ \- and by the time he went home to Hasetsu he’d had time to at least process his dog’s death. 

But Makkachin had been here in this apartment just this morning, just hours ago. Her absence is almost palpable, the atmosphere achingly still and silent without her. Of course coming home to this emptiness would kill Victor. Of course it would push him past the breaking point to face the irreversible reality that she will never again be here when he returns. 

“Shh,” Yuuri murmurs over and over again, rubbing his husband’s back soothingly as he cries his heart out, at a complete loss for any words to adequately express his sympathy. “Shhh, it’s alright, Vitya, you can let it all out. I’m here. I’m sorry, love. I’m so, so sorry.” 

He stands there with Victor sobbing in his arms for so long he loses track of time. After a while, though, Yuuri begins to tire, mental and physical exhaustion starting to wear on him. Victor’s tears show no signs of stopping any time soon, so Yuuri awkwardly maneuvers both of them towards the couch, where he lays back and and pulls Victor down with him so he’s laying comfortably against his chest. 

“It- it feels so empty without her here…” Victor manages to choke out, words barely distinguishable amid his ceaseless sobs. 

“I know, love. I’m so sorry.” 

“Is this how she felt all the times I was gone? All the times I left her?”

“Vitya…”

“S-she must have been so lonely. How could I have just left her like that? I was so s-selfish, it wasn’t fair to her, we c-could have had so much more time together…”

Yuuri can see where this is going. He’d done the same thing himself after Vicchan’s death, been overcome with guilt for every second of his life not spent with his dog. He knows this type of thinking will only compound his husband’s grief, make his suffering even worse. He needs to nip this in the bud before he gets even more upset. 

“She had a good life, Victor.” Yuuri reminds him, but his reassurance falls on deaf ears. 

“I-I wasn’t here. I was travelling so often, and she was all alone!”

“You only left for competitions, right?” 

He sniffles, chokes back a sob. “Yes, b-but-”

“Victor, don’t do this to yourself. You were an amazing owner and Makkachin adored you. Everyone could see it. Please don’t beat yourself up, not now…”

“I didn’t… I c-couldn’t…” Yuuri’s losing him, he can see it. Victor’s crying too hard, his chest heaving as he sucks in desperate breaths in gasps and hiccups. Yuuri’s hyperventilated enough times himself to recognize the signs. 

He takes Victor’s face in his hands and pulls him close so that their foreheads are touching. “Victor, breathe, love. You need to breathe, please.”

“ _I c-can’t, it h-hurts-_ ”

“I know it does, I know, love, and I’m sorry, but I need you to breathe through it. Can you do that for me?” He takes Victor’s hand, places it on his chest, right above his heart, and takes a deep breath in so that Victor can feel the rise and fall. “Like this.” 

It takes a few more minutes for Victor to catch on, a few more minutes Yuuri has to listen to those horrible, gasping sobs. But he persists, keeps his voice low and reassuring, just like Victor does for him when he gets like this. 

“There you are. There you are. That’s good, Vitya, keep going, just like that. You’re doing so well, love, just keep breathing with me.”

Eventually his breathing returns to normal, with the exception of the occasional hiccup or sniffle. Once they have it under control, Victor collapses, boneless, against Yuuri’s chest. Yuuri leans down slightly to kiss the top of Victor’s head, running his fingers through the fine, silver strands and shamelessly cuddling him as his tears continue to subside.

“Victor,” Yuuri says gently after a while, “I think you should try to eat something. You haven’t had anything all day.”

He moves to get up, to check the fridge, but as soon as he begins to stand, Victor’s arms wrap around him tight, refusing to let him move. He buries his face in Yuuri’s chest and whimpers a choked, desperate, _“Please…”_

It’s just that, just the one word, but Yuuri hears the meaning behind it. _Please, don’t go. Please, just stay with me. I need to know you’re here. I can’t be alone right now._

Yuuri nods and relaxes back into the couch, stroking Victor’s hair again. “Okay,” he reassures him gently, “okay, Vitya, I won’t leave. I’m not going anywhere. But you do need to eat eventually, okay?”

He feels Victor nod against him.

“Thank you.” He presses another kiss into his hair, stroking it soothingly with one hand as he uses the other to order takeout on his phone and then text Yakov, informing him of the situation and letting him know not to expect either of them at practice tomorrow. 

By the time he throws his phone onto the coffee table Victor’s tears have finally let up, but he seems to have no intention of relinquishing his grip on Yuuri any time soon. That’s fine with Yuuri, of course, he doesn’t want to let go of his husband either. He keeps holding Victor, stroking his hair and murmuring soft reassurances. 

They are still like that when their food arrives, Yuuri managing to pry himself away from Victor for a moment to pay for their meal and bring it into the living room along with some plates and utensils. He grabs a large glass of water as well, knowing that Victor must be dehydrated from all the crying. Yuuri isn’t really hungry, grief having taken most of his appetite, and he knows Victor isn’t either, but he also knows he can’t sit by and let his husband starve himself because of this. 

In the end, with some coaxing, Victor manages a few bites of food and about half of the water before putting his plate down on the coffee table and resting his head in his hands, but not before Yuuri sees more tears sliding down his face. 

“It doesn’t feel right,” he says, his voice shaking only a little. “To eat and not have her sitting at our feet, begging.” 

Yuuri puts his own plate down and pulls Victor down sideways to rest his head on his shoulder again. “It doesn’t,” he agrees solemnly. 

“I would sometimes think it was annoying,” he continues, “she was so determined to eat people food it was m-maddening. I wished she would just leave me alone to let me eat in peace some days. But now I’d give anything to have her p-poking around my feet again-”

The tears start up again in earnest, and Yuuri nods, holding him tighter. “I know, love. I - I would, too…” 

His voice breaks, suddenly choked with emotion as he’s hit with sudden and vivid clarity by a memory of Makkachin sitting under the table as they ate, resting her head on Yuuri’s knee and looking up at him with those painfully sweet brown eyes. The feeling of loss hits him like a punch to the chest, and for the first time, Yuuri permits himself to let go and cry with his husband. 

He cries for Makkachin, who had been such a good dog, such an important part of his life with his husband and an amazing companion to Yuuri in her own right. He cries for the unfairness of it all that such sweet creatures have such short lifespans. He cries for the Victor that he lost years ago, the one he couldn’t be there for in his final moments. And he cries for the Victor now weeping softly in his arms, his amazing, brilliant, beautiful husband who’s been through so much hardship, lost so much in his life, and has now lost one of the only family members he has left. He cries because it’s all just so _unfair._

Yuuri knows he can’t take this pain from Victor, as much as he wants to. But he can share in it, do his best to shoulder that weight alongside his husband and show him he doesn’t have to do this on his own. Because that’s what their love means. Their dreams are too big to bear alone, so they share the burden. They’ll do the same with this crushing grief, go through it together, support each other just like they do in all things. Yuuri hopes it’s enough to get Victor through this. 

He lets himself cry there on the couch with Victor until neither of them have any more tears to spare and both are leaning limply against the other, completely drained, the apartment quiet save for an occasional sniffle. Then he coaxes his husband to drink a little more water and shepherds him into their bedroom.

It’s far earlier than either of them usually go to bed, but Victor practically collapses on top of the sheets, more physically and emotionally exhausted than Yuuri has ever seen him. When Yuuri climbs into bed alongside him, Victor clings to his side. 

Yuuri wraps himself around his husband as best he can, settling them both down under the sheets, legs entangled, Yuuri curled around Victor as if to shield him from the outside world. He realizes with yet another sting that this will be their first night in this bed without Makkachin curled up on it somewhere with them. Victor seems to have read his mind. 

“I’ve never been good at sleeping alone.” he murmurs sadly. 

“Well, it’s a good thing you aren’t alone then, isn’t it.”

Victor blinks, his eyes wide as if he’s afraid he’s somehow offended Yuuri. “I’m sorry, I just meant-”

Yuuri shushes him gently. “It’s alright, love. I know what you meant.” He pauses for a beat. “Back then… at the clinic… I told Makkachin something. Did you hear what I said to her?”

Victor nods, an achingly vulnerable expression on his face. 

“Good,” Yuuri whispers back, “because I meant every word I said. You’re not alone. I’m right here with you, and I… I promise you I am going to spend the rest of my life making sure you’re never alone again, okay?”

“ _Yuuri…_ ” Victor’s voice cracks, more tears forming in those brilliant blue eyes. 

As his eyes close and the tears roll down his cheeks, Yuuri pulls him in close to his chest again. “Shhh, it’s okay.”

“ _Thank you_.” The words come out as something between a whimper and a sob, muffled against Yuuri’s shirt. 

“It’s okay, Vitya,” he whispers, stroking his hair reassuringly. “It’s okay, just sleep now. I’m here, I’m right beside you. I won’t leave you.” 

Victor cries himself to sleep that night, wrapped in Yuuri’s embrace. Yuuri stays up a while longer watching his husband sleep, staring at the long silver lashes resting against pale cheeks, at the tear tracks still faintly visible on his skin, the little furrow in his brow, and he can’t remember the last time he’s felt so protective of another human being. 

Of course, he’s always cared for Victor, and Victor has always been a bit clingy, a bit needy. But it’s never been like this, he’s never been so open about it as he is now, all the repressed pain and loneliness from his past suddenly laid bare in Makkachin’s absence. 

He’s already said it once, but a part of Yuuri wants to wake Victor up and tell him again that he’s here for him, to keep reassuring him that he’ll never be alone again. But his husband is finally asleep, finally blissfully unaware of his loss, if only for a short while. Yuuri doesn’t have the heart to wake him. 

So he curls in as tight as he can, trying to shield Victor, trying to use his body to convey that message. _I love you. I love you so much. I wish I could take this pain from you, take it all on myself so you wouldn’t have to feel it for a second. I promise to spend every second of the rest of my life making sure you never feel this lonely or sad again._

He eventually falls into a dreamless sleep, still curled protectively around his lover. 

___________________

When Yuuri wakes, the sun is shining a soft, golden light into their bedroom. He shifts slightly, breathes a slow sigh of contentment. He loves waking up like this, surrounded by soft blankets, Victor’s warm body next to his. The comforting weight of a large, furry form curled near the bottom of the bed by their feet, but for some reason this morning he can’t feel her there-

_Oh._

The events of the previous day hit him like a train. His stomach drops as it all comes back to him, and now he fully remembers why he feels this hollowness in his chest, why his eyes, even closed as they are, are still slightly stinging from yesterday’s tears. He opens them and looks across the bed, hoping against all hope that his husband is still asleep, still blissfully unaware of the loss even for a few more minutes, but of course Yuuri isn’t that lucky. 

Victor is lying flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. His eyes are open, his body completely still, and he’s just staring straight up with that same awful empty expression he’d worn on the cab ride home from the vet yesterday, tears running down the side of his face and dripping onto his pillow. 

Without a word, Yuuri shifts over so he’s pressed tight against his husband. He rests his head on Victor’s chest and reaches up to wipe away some tears, to brush his hair back soothingly. They stay like that for a long time. 

Normally they wouldn’t be able to stay in bed together this long. Normally, there would be a cold, wet nose in their faces and four impatient paws jumping on their bellies to demand a morning walk. They’re both thinking about it but neither of them say it, choosing instead to remain silently in bed, wrapped around each other, until Victor’s growling stomach prompts Yuuri to coax him gently out of bed towards the kitchen. 

As Yuuri putters around preparing a breakfast he knows that neither of them really want to eat, Victor sits on the couch in the living room, staring absently at the floor. Yuuri cranes his neck as he fills the kettle with water for tea to see what exactly Victor is looking at. 

Ah. Makkachin’s toys. Victor had spoiled his dog rotten, so there are dozens of them scattered around the house. Dozens of reminders that she had once been here, that she’s now gone. Yuuri steps over her food and water dishes on his way to the fridge. He wonders vaguely if he should move them, put them away before Victor sees. It would be one less cruel reminder…

Victor seems to be of a similar mind. He gets up from the couch and picks up a few of the toys, piling them in the corner on top of the large dog bed that she’d never used, always opting to sleep with the two of them instead. Then he stands there and looks at them for a long while. His back is turned, so Yuuri can’t see the look on his face, but he can see when Victor’s shoulders start to jerk softly as they had yesterday, and he quietly leaves the kitchen to hug his husband from behind. 

“I can’t get rid of them.” Victor whispers, clutching Yuuri’s arms where they’ve wrapped around his stomach. 

Yuuri settles his chin on his husband’s shoulder and murmurs a reassuring, “Okay.”

“It’d be like getting rid of _her_.”

“Okay.”

He gets Victor to eat, and he manages a little more than he had yesterday before pushing away from the table and heading for the bathroom, saying something about being late for practice. 

“It’s okay,” Yuuri says, abandoning his own hardly-touched meal and standing up. “I texted Yakov last night, he’s not expecting either of us. You should be resting…" 

“Yuuri,” Victor turns to look and his eyes are shining with gratitude and unshed tears. “Thank you for thinking of me like that but… I can’t stay here. Every minute I stay in this apartment is another minute I expect to see her out of the corner of my eyes and I just… I can’t be here right now.”

“Okay,” Yuuri crosses the room and pulls him down into another hug, gives him a gentle kiss. “I understand. You go get ready, I’ll let Yakov know we’re coming.”

They don’t get any real practice in that day, both of them skating aimlessly around the rink trying to keep their minds off the loss. Mila, Georgi, and Yurio all offer condolences when they first arrive, but then spend the rest of the day trying to keep the energy up. Yurio even lets Mila hoist him over her head without a fight, complaining loudly as she skates a lap of the rink holding him up, but not putting up as much of a struggle as he usually does. 

Victor normally finds it hilarious when they do that, but today all it drags out of him is a small, sad smile. It warms Yuuri’s heart, though, that as much as Yurio complains about how annoying Victor is, he’d allow himself to suffer the indignity of being lifted up by Mila to try and cheer him up. 

Later on, when Victor goes to change out of his skates, Yakov pulls Yuuri aside and, to his surprise, quietly thanks him for being here. He confides that, in the deepest periods of Victor’s depression, the thought of Makkachin passing had terrified him to his core, as sometimes it had seemed the dog had been the only thing keeping him alive. He clearly means it as a reassurance, as gratitude for Yuuri’s presence in his life, and it’s not even like Yuuri hasn’t suspected the same himself. Still, the confirmation horrifies him, and he spends the second night in a row curled protectively around his husband. 

A few days later they get a call from the vet’s office that Makkachin’s ashes are ready for pickup at the crematorium. They pick out an urn for her there, one with room for a photograph on the front. Victor has it engraved with her name and impressive lifespan. He holds her in his lap all the way home from the crematorium, tears dripping on the polished mahogany of the urn while Yuuri holds his hand. 

“I-if you don’t mind too much, Yuuri.” Victor says, his voice still raw but surprisingly steady as he finally looks up from the small wooden box in his lap and meets his husband’s eye. “I thought we could… s-scatter her ashes by the sea in Hasetsu next time we visit. S-she loved it so much there Yuuri, there was so much room for her to run and chase the seagulls… I- I think she would want to be there.” 

“Of course I don’t mind, Victor.” Yuuri says gently, reaching up to wipe a few stray tears off his husband’s pale cheek. “I think that’s a beautiful idea, and I’m sure Makkachin would be very happy with it.”

When they get home, they place the urn on a shelf in their living room, a photo of Makkachin from their wedding in the frame. Victor looks at the few dog toys still scattered around the room, opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, but then closes it and hugs Yuuri instead. The toys stay where they are. 

 _________________

The grief hits Victor in waves. At times, he’ll be fine, or as fine as he can possibly be given the circumstances. Other times he will absently trail off in the middle of a conversation, silent tears suddenly rolling down his cheeks. On those occasions, Yuuri will move him to a more private location if they’re out somewhere, and hold him till the storm passes. 

He’s always been a very physically affectionate person, but Yuuri does notice Victor touches him a little more in the weeks following Makkachin’s death. A brush against his hand here, a hug from behind there, a hand at the small of his back when they’re out together, all subtle pleas for physical contact, that little bit of extra reassurance that Yuuri’s still there, that even though his dearest companion is gone, he’s still not alone. Yuuri gladly reciprocates, always more than willing to support his husband in any way he needs. 

After a few weeks, Victor returns to his social media accounts, posting a long and heartfelt memorial to his dog along with a photo of the two of them when they were young. Yuuri recognizes it from an article he’d read and saved as a child, a long-haired Victor beaming at the camera with shining eyes and his arms wrapped around a considerably smaller and less grey Makkachin. 

The response to the post is tremendous, far bigger than Yuuri or Victor were expecting. Texts and direct messages come in not only from their fans, but from several of their friends and competitors, Phichit, Chris, Guang-hong and Leo, all sending condolences and best wishes. Yuuri even gets a DM from JJ that he’d made a donation to one of the charities he worked with during the off-season, an animal welfare organization, in Makkachin’s name. Yuuri makes a mental note to thank him in person next time they meet at Four Continents. 

It takes Victor a long time to really smile again, to go back to anything resembling the bright ball of sunshine he had been before the loss. It takes a long time for him to figure out his life without Makkachin when she’d been an integral part of it for so long. But he gets there eventually.

They bring Makkachin with them on their next visit to Hasetsu. They scatter her ashes together on the beach at sunset, with the gulls crying in the air as Victor silently weeps. When they return to the onsen, they find a photograph of her next to Vicchan’s in front of the _butsudan_. 

“I-I thought that was just for family,” Victor stammers, eyes welling up yet again. 

“Makkachin is family.” Hiroko replies simply, with a warm smile. “You both are. You always have been.” 

She looks slightly taken aback when Victor bursts into tears, overwhelmed at the gesture and her words, but her maternal instincts seem to kick in after a second and she quickly pulls her son-in-law into a warm hug. Yuuri watches fondly as his mother pats Victor on the back reassuringly while he stammers out his thanks in broken Japanese, and he feels a sudden wave of gratitude for his family for always making his husband feel so welcome and loved. 

Life goes on. Yuuri manages to take gold at the Grand Prix Final and Four Continents, and silver at Worlds and Pyeongchang. After the Olympics, there is speculation of his retirement, but Yuuri and Victor both agree he has another few seasons in him at least. After all, he promised Victor five gold medals ages ago, and he can’t retire until he’s kept that promise. They talk about moving back to Hasetsu to continue Yuuri’s training, take long walks on the pier every evening, gossip between themselves about Yurio’s obvious blossoming crush on Otabek Altin.

They don’t talk about Another Dog. Yuuri doesn’t want to ask Victor about it, doesn’t want to broach the subject for fear of upsetting him, and Victor never mentions it either. To his credit, he’s finally moved past the stage where he would avert his eyes from pet food commercials or quickly flip past movies with dogs in them while channel surfing. 

He’s definitely taken some steps in moving on from Makkachin’s loss, yes, but he’s clearly not ready to even think about _that_ step. That much is obvious from the fact that the poodle-shaped tissue box he used to bring to competitions is still packed away deep in a closet somewhere, that her toys are still scattered in various places around the house where she’d left them. No, Victor is definitely not ready for Another Dog. 

What’s more, Yuuri doesn’t know how he himself would feel about it. After Vicchan had passed, he’d never thought he’d have Another Dog again. He’d considered even the thought an insult to his poodle’s memory, like he would be trying to replace Vicchan. But having Makkachin around had been such a joy… she hadn’t felt like a replacement, just a new friend. 

He had worried at the beginning, of course, that having another poodle around would bring back sad memories of the beloved companion he'd lost. Like most of his worries, however, in the end it had turned out to be a non-issue. Rather than compounding his grief over Vicchan’s loss, Makkachin's presence in his life had helped to ease that pain. Nothing would ever completely fill the Vicchan-shaped hole in Yuuri's heart, but having the older poodle around to cuddle and trip over and go on morning runs with had certainly made the loss a bit more bearable. 

Maybe Another Dog wouldn’t be so bad after all… But it’s not up to him alone to make that decision, and he certainly doesn’t want to push Victor to make it before he’s ready. So he keeps those thoughts to himself, keeps an eye on Victor, and waits for the day he thinks his husband might be ready to have that conversation. 

And one day, about a year and a half after Makkachin’s passing, Yuuri comes home to a freshly cleaned living room. Not a rarity in and of itself as he and Victor both like a clean living space, but strange because for the first time in eighteen months, the floor has been cleared of all of Makkachin’s toys, which are now presumably packed in the cardboard box sitting on their kitchen table. 

“Victor,” Yuuri begins in surprise, “I- you-“

“I think it’s time.” Victor says with a sad smile and a sigh. “I kept her favourite ball. And the bunny toy she loved to chew on. But, there’s no sense in all her things sitting here gathering dust when other dogs could be usingthem.” 

Yuuri drops his things and moves to the kitchen table, taking his husband in his arms. He hugs him tight, trying to convey without words how proud he is of Victor for taking this step, trying to let him know without speaking that he will be there to support him through this. 

That night, they drive to a local shelter to donate the toys. The staff thank him warmly for his donation, and Victor smiles a sad but genuine smile that breaks Yuuri’s heart and sets it aglow with pride at the same time.

As they begin to leave, they hear barking from the back kennel room, and Yuuri notices Victor turn back towards the sound out of the corner of his eye. He looks for a long moment at the doorway leading to the kennels, and then back to Yuuri, a question in his eyes. 

Yuuri tilts his head, a strange, light feeling stirring in his chest. He _thinks_ he knows what his husband is asking, but he couldn’t presume, couldn’t dare hope that…

“Yuuri,” Victor begins, and he sounds so unsure of himself. “I-I know this is sudden, and I know we haven’t really talked about it, but…D-do you want to…”

Yuuri’s eyes widen in surprise, and he guesses Victor takes that as a no, because he immediately raises his hands and shakes his head slightly, eyes wide and a bit panicked. “Sorry, we-we don’t have to…”

“No, no, Victor,” Yuuri interrupts him quickly, “I was just surprised, is all. You mean you want to…”

“I.” He swallows. “I know it’s impulsive, but.. but some of the best decisions I’ve ever made have been impulsive, so…”

Yuuri smiles fondly at his husband, taking his hand reassuringly. “If you’re ready for this, then I am, too.”

Victor smiles back at him, hesitant but genuine. “I… I think I am.” 

The shelter has a strict policy on adoption involving a week-long application process to ensure that all oftheir animals go to good homes. They fill out all the necessary paperwork and spend the next week discussing their decision in-depth and preparing for the new addition to their family. Victor has a few mini-breakdowns over the course of the week, overcome at certain moments with guilt for “replacing” Makkachin. Yuuri holds him as usual, reassures him that getting a new dog doesn’t mean they’re replacing her at all, that Makkachin would want him to be happy. 

The last bout of tears and uncertainty happens on the drive to the shelter. Yuuri holds Victor’s hand though it, dries his tears and reminds him wryly that it’s too late to back out now anyways, that the puppy they picked out a week ago is waiting right now to come home with them. 

Victor appears nervous as they approach the shelter, more nervous than Yuuri has ever seen his typically-unflappable husband. He keeps a tight grip on Yuuri’s hands as they ascend the steps to the doorway. 

“You ready to take our new baby home?” Yuuri jokes with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. 

Victor chuckles slightly. Then he takes a breath, seemingly to steady himself, and smiles back at Yuuri with only a hint of nerves. “Yes. I am. I’m… I’m ready.”

The second he lays eyes on their new puppy, a playful border collie mix named Mika by the shelter staff, all traces of doubt and trepidation vanish from Victor’s face.It’s been a week since they first saw her, but she seems to remember them, barking in excitement and wagging her tail so hard her whole body wiggles. 

Victor drops to his knees immediately, holding his hand out for Mika to sniff. “Helloooooo, sweet girl!” he croons as she gives him a lick, still barking and wiggling enthusiastically. “You’re such a pretty puppy, yes you are! Yes you are!”

Now it’s Yuuri who is in danger of crying as he watches his husband baby talk at the puppy and give her belly rubs as she rolls happily around on the floor. His eyes are shining, mouth curved in that familiar heart-shaped smile that Yuuri loves so much. There is no regret in his husband’s eyes, nor is there even a trace of uncertainty anymore. He looks _happy_ , so completely, blissfully happy. Happier than Yuuri has seen him in a very long time. He can’t even say how glad he is to see that smile on his husband’s face again. 

His train of thought is interrupted as Mika wiggles away from Victor and trots over on her chubby little legs to say hello to him, hopping up to put her tiny front paws on his knees and sniffing at him as he crouches down to her level. She’s so adorable Yuuri thinks he might actually die, all fluffy black and white fur and big brown eyes. Brown eyes, he thinks with a small pang of sadness, that look so like Vicchan and Makkachin’s. 

The moment of sadness is short lived as Mika yips and hops up to try to lickhis face, tail still wagging madly, and Yuuri is caught up again in the joy of this new little member of their family as he picks her up to cuddle and kiss her.

“Hello, Mika,” he giggles as she wiggles excitedly in his arms, covering his face in excited kisses. 

He tears his eyes away from the adorable bundle of fur in his arms for just a moment, and meets Victor’s gaze as he watches them, those beautiful blue eyes shining with so much love and joy Yuuri’s heart feels like it might burst. He wants to hold on to this warm feeling forever. 

They bring the puppy to a pet supply store on the way home and Victor carries her around, letting her sniff at the toys and “choose” whatever she wants. An exorbitant amount of money later they’re back at their apartment with Mika and an armful of squeaky toys, watching delightedly as she explores her new home. 

The two of them watch together as she sniffs curiously around the apartment. Victor has his phone out immediately, already seemingly intent on documenting every second of her life with them. Yuuri spends half the time watching Mika and the other half with his eyes on his husband, drinking in that bright, joyful smile that has been missing for so long. 

The smile drops only once, just a little, when Victor lowers the camera for a split second and his eyes flit to Makkachin’s urn on the shelf, to her ball and her bunny toy. As soon as Yuuri sees Victor’s expression fall, he’s by his side in a second. 

“You okay, Vitya?” he murmurs, reaching up to tuck a few errant silver strands behind Victor’s ear.

Victor turns his head slightly to smile down at him, and his smile is still a little nostalgic, but genuine all the same. “Yes, _солнышко_ , I’m okay.” He brings the hand that’s not holding his phone around Yuuri, pulls him in tighter. “More okay than I’ve been in a long time.” 

Yuuri hums contentedly, leaning into the warmth of his husband’s chest. “I’m glad.”

They stay there a while longer like that, watching Mika wander around the living room, poking her nose curiously around the couch. 

“Yuuri?” Victor says after a while, his hesitant, almost shy tone prompting Yuuri to remove his head from Victor’s chest and look him in the eye. 

“What is it, love?”

“I just… I wanted to say thank you. For, for everything you’ve done since M-Makkachin…”

“Vitya, you don’t need to thank-”

Victor holds up a hand to stop him. 

“I know I don’t need to. I want to.” His face softens, and he lifts a hand to cup Yuuri’s cheek, eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you so much for being here through all of that, Yuuri. I-I don’t think I would have made it this far without you.”

Victor must notice Yuuri’s eyes widen in fear, because he backtracks quickly. “No, no, love, I only mean… I wouldn’t have been able to, to even _begin_ to move on. I would have wallowed forever, even though I know she wouldn’t have wanted that. Without you, I wouldn’t have even _considered-”_

His voice gives out and he watches Mika for a while as she sniffs at a throw pillow. “Just… thank you. Thank you so much, Yuuri. For everything.”

Yuuri looks up at his husband’s open, earnest face, and is overwhelmed once again by complete adoration for this man. Blinking back the moisture in his eyes, he pulls Victor into another embrace. 

“You still don’t need to thank me,” he mutters into Victor’s cashmere sweater, “we’re a team, we’re _supposed_ to handle these things together. That’s what the whole marriage thing is about, you know?”

He pulls back a bit so Victor can see his playful smile, and takes hold of his left hand, drawing it gently up to his face. “But if you insist, then you’re welcome.” He kisses the gold wedding band there softly. “Always.”

Victor looks like he’s about to cry again as he raises both hands to cup Yuuri’s face delicately, but this is the kind of crying Yuuri likes. These are happy tears, the ones that spill over when Victor’s heart is full of too much joy to contain. 

“I love you, Yuuri.” His voice trembles, soft and reverent. 

“Love you too.” Yuuri echoes in no more than a whisper. 

His arms reach up and wind around Victor’s neck, pulling him into a tender kiss, both of them completely lost to the world, too wrapped up in each other to notice - until the sound of tearing fabric fills the air - that Mika has taken hold of the throw pillow between her teeth and is now shaking it vigorously from side to side. 

Their eyes snap open at the sound and they part, startled. Victor is the first to process what is happening and react, scrambling around the couch and dropping to his knees in front of the dog. 

“Mika, no!” he says, trying to sound stern but failing completely, the laughter too evident in his voice. “Mika, drop it!”

He takes hold of a corner of the pillow and tries to pull it away from her, which the puppy obviously takes as an invitation to a game of tug-o-war, shaking her head even more enthusiastically and causing the fabric to tear completely, a cloud of feathers raining down on her and Victor as she wags her tail and growls playfully. 

“Oh my god,” Yuuri claps a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter at the spectacle as he moves to assist his husband in taming the demon hound they’ve apparently allowed into their household. He picks Mika up and she drops her corner of the pillow immediately, causing more feathers to puff up into the air over herself and Yuuri. “Mika, you silly girl, what are we going to do with you?”

The pup wriggles in his grip and licks his feather-covered face in response. Yuuri hears an undignified snort from behind him and turns his gaze to his husband, who is also covered head to toe in feathers and doubled over laughing hysterically. He looks so completely ridiculous that Yuuri starts laughing a second later, still clutching Mika, afraid to put her down lest she find something else to destroy while they’re both distracted. 

The three of them end up on the floor together in a giggling, feathery heap, neither Victor nor Yuuri seemingly able to stop, pure distilled joy and giddiness over this new beginning spilling out in the form of uncontrollable laughter.

A while later, after they both manage to somewhat catch their breath, Yuuri moves to put down Mika. Before he can place her back on the carpet, though, Victor’s voice rings out.

“Wait!" 

Yuuri pauses, confused. “What is it?”

“Keep hold of her,” he giggles, still slightly breathless as he rummages around in his pocket for his phone, unlocking it and turning on the front-facing camera. “This is perfect.” 

He uploads the picture to Snapchat, then all of his other social media accounts. The picture is framed slightly askew, and shows the three of them covered in feathers, Yuuri and Victor’s eyes shining and cheeks flushed from laughter and Mika in Yuuri’s arms, looking adorably pleased with herself. There is an immediate and overwhelming flood of excited responses to the posts from friends and fans, none of which the happy couple notice for the next few hours as they are too busy cleaning feathers off the dog, the apartment, and themselves. 

Later on, when Yuuri finally gets a chance to really look closely at the photo, when the two of them are tucked in bed and Mika is slumbering in her crate, he notices something. There in the background, right between his and Victor’s joyful, laughing faces, is the shelf that holds Makkachin’s urn, her favourite ball and her bunny toy. He smiles as he stares at the image on his phone, his eyes welling up just a little.

He sets the picture as his phone’s lock screen, smiling at it one last time before setting down his phone and cuddling in to Victor’s side.

He was right, Yuuri thinks as he drifts into a content slumber. It really _is_ the perfect shot of their little family, of the _four_ of them, together and happy, with a bright future ahead. 

**Author's Note:**

> God damn it, Marley, look what you made me do. I swear to god, sad dog movies should be illegal. They fuck me right up and then this shit happens. 
> 
> Ah, well. At least we know this will never actually happen in canon as Makkachin is actually an immortal superdog who can never be killed.


End file.
